


Black and Gold Sails

by LadyNorbert



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Friend Fiction, Pirates, Varric Tethras Writes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-01-30 05:06:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12646698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyNorbert/pseuds/LadyNorbert
Summary: Following the downfall of Corypheus, a slightly bored Varric decides to send Isabela some "friend-fiction." When he finds out that there's an attraction between her and Josephine, he knows just who to put in the story.





	Black and Gold Sails

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kagura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kagura/gifts).



> This isn't one of my usual pairings, but the prompt amused me and the idea wouldn't let go. As my regular DA readers know, Varric takes up a portion of my brain space and he insisted on helping with the assignment. I can't criticize, since I'm sure it's better than it would have been without my "editor."
> 
> [Editor's note: You're welcome.]
> 
> There are references in here to the multiplayer as well as Inquisition itself. "Mouse" is an original character. Thanks to AuroraBorealia and zoetroepe for serving as beta readers. Enjoy!

* * *

**Black and Gold Sails**

* * *

 

 

 _The_ _Siren’s Call_ _was a proud ship and true, one of the fastest raider vessels on the Amaranthine Ocean. She shone like a jewel, dark as night against the sparkling blue, and those who saw her approach could not help but tremble, for she and her captain were both widely admired and widely feared._

 

* * *

 

“Pardon me, Varric, but I – oh, am I interrupting?”

“No more than anybody else, Nightingale,” he replied mildly, setting aside his quill and blowing on the freshly glistening ink. “Need something? Or are you just here to admire the dwarf?”

It was a relatively quiet day in Skyhold. With Corypheus defeated, and the Inquisitor off on some unrelated venture into the Frostback Basin, Varric thought he’d start a new story. He hadn’t any plans to publish; it was just going to be a little treat to send to Isabela.

“Nothing urgent, though admiring the dwarf is a popular activity, I hear.” Leliana chuckled. “I’m just getting some details handled – I have to start preparing for the transition to Val Royeaux.”

“Oh, right, guess I need to start calling you ‘Most Holy’ or some such, don’t I?”

“It can wait. What’s the current story?”

“Well, I thought I’d write something for my friend Isabela, the one I call Rivaini – I think you met her a couple times, right? She’s been through here helping with some of the minor skirmishes you big hats arrange.”

She paused. “Oh, the pirate, yes?”

“She prefers _Admiral_ , but yes, that’s her.”

“Intriguing woman.” Leliana lowered her voice. “Josie was a bit taken with her, just between you and me.”

“You’re joking. And here I thought I’d seen enough weird pairings to last a lifetime.” Varric chuckled. “Well, this story just took a turn for the scandalous...”

“Do let me read it when you’re done, won’t you?”

“I make no promises, but for you, I’ll see what I can do.”

“I can hardly wait. Just don’t let Cassandra find out; I can’t be sure whether she’d be scandalized or eager for spoilers,” she added. “Though if you think your friend would be receptive, you might let Josie read it.”

“I will keep that in mind.” The author smirked a bit.

 

* * *

 

_“We’re bound for the Rialto Bay, boys,” said Isabela, adjusting the magnificent plumes in her large hat. “The scuttlebutt is that the Montilyets are once again permitted to trade with Orlais, and that means they’ll be sending out some fat beauties loaded with treasure. But I’ve something else in mind.”_

_“What have you heard, Admiral?” asked Carver, her first mate. He was a stocky thing, black-haired and high-spirited, with a lust for adventure that nearly matched her own._

_“Rumor has it that their eldest daughter has been betrothed to a Lord Somebody of Someplace,” she replied. “The next few ships they’re sending are likely to be the dowry. Chests of gold, perhaps some heavy jewels, things we can easily parcel out and sell without catching much notice.”_

_“So we watch for a ship flying Montilyet colors to sail out of Antiva City?”_

_“Exactly. We won’t strip it bare, of course - it wouldn’t do for the poor bride to enter the marriage utterly impoverished.” She chuckled throatily. “We’ll just levy a bride-price, of a sort. A fistful of coins here, a string of pearls there. Easy pickings, and they’ll be grateful for their lives.”_

_Isabela’s crew was relatively small, but almost fanatically loyal to their fearless leader At her orders, they scuttled to their places, tightening ropes and letting the sails billow to catch the wind. They left the Veneficalion Sea by way of the Northern Passage. The Siren’s Call cleaved through the waters like a blade, slicing the waves before her. Behind them in the southwest, the setting sun ignited the distant trees of Antiva’s Arlathan Forest, burnishing everything into shades of copper and gold._

 

* * *

 

“Are you writing about me?”

Varric looked up. He’d dozed off briefly, his bristled chin nestled in the soft leather palm of his glove, but Josephine’s voice brought him back to the here and now of Skyhold. The fire was starting to burn low; either he needed to go back to his quarters or he needed to find someone who could bring in some fresh wood. “Ruffles. Would I do that?”

“Of course you would.” Her black eyes sparkled, and Varric honestly couldn’t tell whether their expression was pleased or threatening. “Leliana said you’re at work on a new story and that I might be in it.”

“Well, I’m writing, I can confirm that much. I wasn’t entirely sure you’d be on board with the plot I had in mind, though. No pun intended.”

The dark Antivan brows knit together in some puzzlement. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s a piece of what my pirate pal calls ‘friend-fiction.’ She wrote some when our friend Aveline, the guard-captain, started courting her husband. I thought I’d send her a piece as a sort of gift, you know, something to read when she’s alone on the high seas.”

“That sounds _scintillating_ ,” Josephine exclaimed delightedly, but then stopped short. “Wait, why would I not be on board with that? What do you have me doing in this story, Varric?”

“I was sort of... pairing you two off.”

“Me? And your pirate friend?”

“In my defense, it was not entirely my idea.”

“I’m not criticizing, I’m just surprised. I’ve never been in a romance story; it’s not something I ever expected.” Josephine paused. “You... you aren’t going to _publish_ this, are you? My parents would be scandalized.”

“Give me a little credit, Ruffles,” he replied soothingly. “If I _did_ decide to publish - and at this point it’s not my intention - I would most certainly change the names and identifying characteristics.” Seeing her lips twitch in thought, he added, “I’ll let you read it first if you want. Nobody else will see it before you, except me of course.”

“Well, I... I suppose there’s no harm... you promise?”

“I’ll swear it on Bianca’s trigger, no eyes but your own.”

“All right.” She hesitated, then took a chair. “Let me see what you have so far, I’m dying of curiosity.”

“I made Hawke’s little brother the first mate. I thought that would be funny,” he remarked, pushing the papers across the table. “Wonder how he’s doing; last I heard he was on his way to Weisshaupt to join his brother.”

 

* * *

 

_“There we have it, lads,” said Isabela, peering triumphantly through her spyglass. “If the bells and ribbons are any indication, that’s the bridal fleet.”_

_The Siren’s Call had made remarkably good time, sailing around the eastern and southern coasts of Rivain and into Rialto Bay without incident. Antiva City glittered like a jewel in the distance, and the ships - five of the finest Antivan vessels, loaded for Orlais - were just beginning to leave the port. They would head south on the Amaranthine Ocean, then veer west into the Waking Sea._

_“What sort of dowry d’you think they're carrying?” Carver wondered._

_“Yeah... any ideas?” This from another sailor, one of the newer ones; Isabela couldn’t remember his real name so she’d taken to calling him Mouse. He was a scrawny, scrappy thing, useful for popping up to the crow’s nest and observing the horizon. “I’ve never been to a noble wedding, dunno what to think of it.”_

_“Well, from what I know of the Montilyets,” Isabela said, “they’re blue bloods with a long history of mercantile success. I think we can definitely count on a few chests of coin. Beyond that, jewels for certain, and probably a small fortune in wedding finery. But we’ll leave the dresses alone; can’t have the poor thing show up with nothing to wear, after all.”_

_“How are we going to take on multiple ships? There’s at least five of them, and only one of us,” Carver pointed out._

_“An excellent point, my little bird. What we need to do is isolate one of the ships from the other four, and make do with whatever we find on board.” Isabela thought a little. “Now, if Lord Montilyet is a clever man - and I’ll wager he is - he won’t have the bulk of his treasure on the central ship in the formation, because it’s too obvious that the other four are protecting it. But he won’t have it on the ones at the front or the back, either, because he’ll figure that raiders will be too quick to dismiss the central ship. So I’m thinking it’s either the one to starboard or the one to port, and it’ll be a challenge to lure it away but I’ll come up with something exciting and profitable to make it work.”_

_“Seems likely to me,” said Carver, “that he might distribute the wealth evenly among all five ships, in case someone does something just like this.”_

_“Smart lad. You could be right,” she allowed. “Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll fire off a couple of rounds, carefully arranged to miss, and drive them toward that rocky inlet near the old cave where we rode out that hurricane. They’ll likely split up to avoid crashing on the rocks, and we can isolate whichever of the ships is easiest to reach. Once we plunder, we release and let the bridal fleet go on its merry way.”_

 

* * *

 

“So? How is it so far?” Varric asked.

“I admit I’m intrigued,” Josephine conceded. “I can’t claim to be a bona fide expert on just how piracy works, but it...  _seems_ accurate enough.”

“Your family’s ships were never run down by pirates?”

“Oh, it’s happened a time or two, but it’s not as though I was there to record the details. All I know is what I was told.”

“That’s pretty much all I know too,” he replied. “It’s one of the reasons I never intended to publish this one - it would require way too much research. I’m up to my eyebrows as it is working on the Orlesian thriller with Madam de Fer as the villain; this was just a change of pace. A refresher, if you will. Sometimes a writer has to take a break from one project and recharge by doing something completely different.”

“And, er, just who is this ‘Lord Somebody of Somewhere’ to whom I’ve been betrothed?” she asked. “Why doesn’t Isabela know his name?”

“Honestly? She doesn’t care enough to know. Heck, at this point, she doesn’t even know _your_ name. In the story, that is, she knows it in real life.”

“I presume that’s due to change?” Josephine glanced at him and chuckled, her cheeks visibly warm.

“It would be a pretty poor romance if it didn’t, Ruffles. Even I know that much, and I’m not good at romance writing.” Varric smiled at her, amused and truthfully rather pleased by her reactions. “You might need to give me a couple days to finish all of this, though. I do need to sleep sometimes.”

“Of course. I understand.”

“Great. I just wish the characters understood that.”

 

* * *

 

_“All right, look,” said Isabela, several hours later, “I know I said to plunder valuables.”_

_“Yes, Admiral.”_

_“And I’ll admit, this does look valuable.”_

_“Yes, Admiral.”_

_“However, when I spoke of valuables, I was talking about valuables that are easy to move.” She glared at the handsomely carved ebony hope chest which was now parked in the middle of her cabin. “Small things, you know? Jewels, coins, silks? Not  furniture!”_

_There was a pause, and then Mouse ventured to ask, “Should we put it back?”_

_“How do you propose we do that? Chase after them and say, ‘Oh, terribly sorry, we seem to have burgled the bride’s hope chest by mistake, please take it back with our compliments’?”_

_“...yes?”_

_“No!”_

_Anything any of them might have said next, however, was immediately put out of their minds by a sudden hammering sound. They all turned to stare at the chest, which was vibrating just slightly with the exertions. “Oh, balls,” Isabela muttered, “it’s haunted.”_

_“It’s not haunted,” called a muffled voice. “But it does seem to have locked, if you could find a way to let me out..."_

_“Well, of all the things I thought I was going to see today, this wasn’t one of them,” the admiral muttered, crossing to her desk and retrieving a set of lockpicks. A few minutes later, the chest opened, and an aristocratic-looking woman garbed in blue and gold satin popped up. She was sweating slightly, breathing labored._

_“Thank goodness. I thought I was likely to suffocate in there if I had to wait much longer.” The stranger paused, and stared around in growing dismay. “Oh. Oh, dear. This… this is not my ship.”_

_“No, this is my ship,” said Isabela, amused. “And who might you be, sweet thing?”_

_“My name is Josephine Montilyet, and I have the distressing suspicion that I have just been kidnapped.”_

_Carver glanced at Mouse. “This might be a good time for us to run.”_

_“Shoo,” said Isabela, flatly. “One of you fetch the poor girl a drink. Here, let me help you out of there. I apologize, we didn’t steal you on purpose.”_

_“I can’t decide whether that makes things better or worse,” Josephine said dryly, nevertheless allowing the fiery pirate to assist her in exiting the chest._

_“Why were you in there?”_

_“My fleet was en route to Orlais, where I am betrothed to marry a distant cousin of Duke Cyril de Montfort. A most advantageous alliance, in its way,” she added, seating herself on top of the now-closed chest and smoothing the ruffles of her garment. “When your ship attacked, my attendant recommended I conceal myself inside this chest, rather than risk being taken for ransom. Your motives were, and are, entirely unclear.”_

_“I’m a pirate, lovely. I steal things from ships. It’s a fairly lucrative line of work with a long and storied tradition to support it.” Isabela shrugged. “Oh. I’m Admiral Isabela, and you’re on board the Siren’s Call. Until we figure out what in the world to do with you, I suggest you get comfortable... I’ve never held someone for ransom and I really don’t intend to start now.”_

_“The Siren’s Call ,” Josephine repeated slowly. “I have heard of this. I believe you have assaulted a few noteworthy ships in the recent past.”_

_“Oh, one or two. Nothing to really brag about, but it pays the men decently and keeps me in liquor. Also cake.”_

_“Cake?”_

_“These tiny cakes from Val Royeaux. I’m simply mad about them.” Isabela chuckled. “I don’t normally fawn over sugary treats, but the petit fours are delightful. I’ll share them with you, if you promise to behave.”_

_Josephine regarded her askance. “I must admit, I am slightly disconcerted by the fact that I’m not certain what you mean when you say you want me to behave.”_

_“If you promise not to jump overboard or try to kill me in my sleep, I won’t tie you up and I’ll let you have some cake.” Isabela shrugged. “It’s a fairly straightforward arrangement.”_

_“I believe those are terms to which I can be persuaded to agree, yes.”_

 

* * *

 

Varric, in the morning, was annoyed to discover that he’d fallen asleep on top of the still-slightly-damp manuscript, and there was ink on his cheek and nose. Grumbling to himself, he ambled off to his rooms in order to wash and change his clothes.

By the time he returned to his usual spot by the great hall’s fireplace, he was in a better mood, and amused to find a very eager and bright-eyed Josephine waiting for him. “Did you ever sleep last night?” he teased.

“I slept just fine, thank you. But I won’t deny that I was very eager to see what else you imagined for this story.”

“I managed to work in your fondness for the Orlesian cakes, and you’ve been kidnapped in the most unexpected manner I could invent. So far, things are moving slowly.” He pushed the newest pages at her, and while she devoured their contents, he bribed one of the castle pages to find him some breakfast.

“These last few lines are impossible to read, Varric,” Josephine protested.

“Yeah, they accidentally ended up on my face when I fell asleep. I’ll recopy them, but all you need to know for now is that you promised not to try to kill Isabela in her sleep in return for sweets.”

“I’ve made less agreeable concessions when the occasion has called for it,” she said, chuckling. “So what will Isabela do with me? Ransom?”

“Nah. The way I see it, she’s going to sail around for a while until she finds a good port where she can sell off her ill-gotten gains.” He looked thoughtful. “I think I might have her take you as far as Llomerryn, since nobody in their right mind would go looking for you in that cesspool. The longer you’re on the ship, the more time you two spend together and the closer you become.”

“And then?”

“Spoilers, madam! Surely you don’t expect me to give away everything?”

 

* * *

 

_“Red sky at morning, sailors take warning,” Isabela mused. She climbed the stairs leading up to the deck and stared out across the sea at the rising sun. The rolling clouds were painted a stark crimson, suggesting the likelihood of a storm later in the day. For herself she didn’t mind; she was fond of telling others that being on the open sea in the middle of a storm was the best feeling in the world. But for the sake of her ‘prisoner,’ she could wish for calmer waters._

_Josephine had been on board for three days now. Thus far, Isabela had learned a few things about her. One, she was damn good at Wicked Grace and, as far as the admiral could discern, didn’t even need to cheat. Two, she absolutely refused to bet clothing. Three, she wasn’t overly enthusiastic about being trotted off to Orlais to marry the Duke’s kinsman, but as the eldest daughter of the house, she felt bound to carry out the arrangement. Four, her appetite for tiny cakes rivaled even Isabela’s own, and they were definitely going to need to get in a bigger supply if Josephine was staying for any greater length of time._

_“Good morning,” she said now, and the gentle lilt of her Antivan accent washed over Isabela’s ears like a soft spring rain. The pirate half turned, nodding and wordlessly indicating that Josephine might also stand at the railing if she chose. After only a brief hesitation, she did. “What a lovely sunrise.”_

_“It’s pretty enough, but it foretells a storm later. Though you probably know that, being from a ship-owning clan.”_

_“Ah yes. The old legend about the red sky. You know, we have a different saying in Antiva.”_

_“Really?” Isabela frowned slightly, watching as Josephine folded her elegant hands on the polished wood of the ship’s rail. “Do tell.”_

_“Not that we disregard the wisdom of the red sky, of course. It’s well understood to be accurate. Rather, we have an additional saying in Antiva,” Josephine clarified. “Wind from the east, the danger is least. Wind from the west, the storm will not rest.”_

_Isabela pursed her lips in thought. “That’s... well, I can’t say it’s the most accurate thing I’ve ever heard, but it’s worded pretty, I guess.”_

_“Of course it doesn’t take into account the prospect of a northern or southern wind.” Josephine chuckled. “But as you say, the wording is nice. Where are we bound, then?”_

_“Llomerryn, for a few days.”_

_“Llomerryn! But isn’t it...”_

_“Dangerous? Exotic? Exciting?” Isabela smirked._

_“Well, yes, all of those things, but I was thinking more along the lines of... no, actually, dangerous covers it well enough.”_

_“You’ve never been there, I take it.”_

_“Apart from Antiva, I have visited only Orlais and Nevarra,” Josephine explained. “I served as the Antivan ambassador to Orlais for a time.”_

_“My, my, Lady Montilyet, I had no idea you were such a significant political figure.” Her voice was teasing, her laughter brief and only slightly mocking._

_“Not really. It was an honor to serve, but as to significant, well... less than you might think. But to return to my query, why are we going to Llomerryn?”_

_“Well,” said Isabela, “I need to figure out what to do with you. But until I do, Llomerryn seems like the best place to make coin off of what we stole from your bridal ships. The merchants there don’t generally ask too many questions, and besides - the markets are filled with wonders like you’ll have never seen. Think of the stories you’ll have to tell when you go home.”_

_“So then you do intend to let me go home, eventually?”_

_“Of course I do. I don’t keep slaves, you silly thing. You’d make a lovely pet, I’ll admit, but I wouldn’t collar you against your will.”_

_“That’s - that’s - I suppose I could say it’s reassuring.”_

_“Though if you wanted a collar,” Isabela added languidly, “I’m sure we could find something. Some diamonds, perhaps, or maybe obsidian stones; they’d go well with your eyes.”_

_“Er... duly noted.”_

_“What’s the matter, sweetness? You’re looking a little... hmm, what would I call that... distressed, I think. We’ll go with distressed. You don’t want a collar, by any chance, do you?”_

_“Don’t be ridiculous! I am not a lap dog!”_

_“Just checking.” Isabela laughed._

 

* * *

 

“So I hear,” said a voice, “that someone’s been writing me a story.”

Varric glanced up from his manuscript, and did a double take. “Rivaini! What storm blew you in here? I thought you were docking in the Free Marches.” Blinking, he glanced at the time; it had been hours since anyone had last spoken to him, and the great hall of Skyhold was much less populated than usual.

“I was. Merrill sends her love,” she added, “and Aveline sends regards of a much less affectionate persuasion. But a little black bird brought a message from your spymaster to say that there was work for me here, if I was interested, and she could sweeten the bargain with the news that everybody’s favorite author was writing a new story with me in it.” She hopped up to sit on the edge of the table, smirking. “I don’t suppose I finally get my hands on the chest hair in this adventure, do I?”

“Much as I hate to disappoint a lady, this is a different kind of story.”

“Pfft. I’m many things, Varric, but I don’t think a _lady_ is one of them.”

“Your call to make, not mine. So what kind of job did Nightingale line up for you this time?”

“Oh, who knows. When it comes to that goofy away team she likes to saddle me with, half the time I feel like I’m looking after someone’s very violent children.” She laughed. “I like ZITHER!, though. He’s pretty funny. And that rogue, Luka, makes some good jokes now and then. More importantly, what’s this story you’re doing?”

“I had an idea to send you a little ‘friend-fiction’ with you in it, for old times’ sake.” Varric chuckled. “I hadn’t decided exactly what to do with it, though, but I had it on good authority that a certain ambassador found you very intriguing.”

“Oh, reeeeeally.”

“Yeah, but now here’s the thing. She made me promise that if I wrote this - and I’ve been writing it for a couple of days - I wouldn’t let anyone see it before her. So you can’t read it yet.”

“I can’t read the story you wrote _for me_ until Lady Montilyet gives it her seal of approval?” Isabela pouted. “That’s hardly fair.”

“You cheat at cards, what would you know about fair?”

“Not the same thing!”

“I tell you what.” He folded his arms on the tabletop, smirking at her. “Ruffles is in her office right now - through that door over there. You go in, sit on her desk for a bit, and talk her into letting you read the manuscript. She says it’s okay, you’re welcome to what there is. It’s not done, though.”

“Please. I thought for a moment you were going to make this difficult. I’ll be back soon.” With a catlike smile, Isabela eased herself off of his writing table and sauntered to the other side of the great hall, the buckles of her thigh-high boots glinting in the glow of the firelight.

She did not return very soon.

 

* * *

 

_“I suggest, pet, that you stay close to me while we’re in the market,” Isabela said as they prepared to dock in Llomerryn. “My first mate is a deft hand when it comes to fetching prices for most of the things, but I want to handle selling a few of the jewels personally.”_

_“I’m just supposed to stand there and smile while you sell off the valuables that were to have accompanied me to my wedding?” Josephine looked indignant._

_“Well, look on the bright side. I’m not selling you.” She smirked. “And let me assure you, I most certainly could. The right buyer would pay handsomely for a prize like you.”_

_“What would you have me do, then?”_

_“If you’re smart, you’ll stay very close. Closer than arm’s reach, as far as that goes. I’m gentle, pet, but most raiders aren’t, and there are some who would invent a reason to snatch you right off the street. Trust me when I tell you that you don’t want that.”_

_“Why not leave me on the ship under guard, then?” Josephine challenged._

_“Same sort of reason.” Isabela shrugged. “Someone’s likely to catch sight of you and think you’re worth stealing. Best case scenario, they’d work out who you are and sell you back to your father. Worst case scenario... look, it’s just better all around if you stay where I can protect you.”_

_“Protect me? I wouldn’t even be in this mess if it weren’t for you!”_

_“I know, and I’m sorry. There, does that make it better? This wasn’t supposed to happen. But it did, and we’re making the best of it.” Isabela sighed. “Besides, you seem like you’re enjoying yourself.”_

_“Well... it’s been an adventure, I’ll say that,” she admitted._

_“That’s my girl. You behave yourself in the market, pet, and maybe we’ll get you that pretty collar we talked about.” Isabela winked playfully. Despite her annoyance, Josephine was smiling, and the pirate was quietly delighted._

_They made an appealing picture in the marketplace; of that, Isabela was certain. She walked through the streets as though she owned them, her black boots stepping as lightly as a cat’s paws, her thick velvet coat staving off the coastal chill. Josephine was at her side, her walk the strident sweep of a noblewoman; she kept her arm linked with Isabela’s for support and protection. Reluctant as she was to be there, her erect posture and genteel demeanor made her appear as though she did this sort of thing every day, and enjoyed every moment of it. The crowd seemed to part before them like water giving way to a ship._

_“Don’t be afraid to smile now and then, pet.” Isabela chuckled. “You’re having more fun than you want to admit. And remember, no one here knows who you are.”_

_“I can’t decide if that is a good thing or not.”_

_“It doesn’t matter if they know you. What matters is that you know you.”_

_“An interesting piece of advice... and wiser than I should like to admit.”_

_“The sea is a good teacher, pet,” Isabela explained as they strolled. “Out on the water, in a very real sense, everyone is equal. It’s important to surround yourself with people you can trust, because when things go south - and sooner or later they will go south - you’ll be counting on them to save your life, just like they’ll be counting on you to save theirs. And it’s easier to recognize who can be trusted and who can’t when you have a strong understanding of who you are.”_

_“That is - that is very profound,” Josephine acknowledged. “I had never considered such a thing, but you must come across a great deal of danger in your travels.”_

_“Storms - like the one we can expect tonight - other raiders, and the sea full of the unknown,” came the reply. “There are legends of monsters that dwell in the deeps, who sometimes swim up to attack ships. Nobody I know has ever seen such a thing, though. But we all keep an eye out for them just in case.”_

_“Monsters?”_

_“I’ll tell you some stories later, pet. You might want the distraction when the bad weather comes. I personally think being on the open water in a storm is the best feeling in the world, but it doesn’t seem to agree with everybody.” Isabela chuckled. “Now, let me have a go at this merchant.”_

_The admiral had gone through the plunder with her captive before they left the ship. Not wanting to distress or inconvenience Josephine any more than she had already done, she made sure that none of what was being sold was any sort of treasured family heirloom or something that the bride prized personally. So it was with a (relatively) clear conscience that she exchanged pearls and silks for glittering coin. “We’ll get ourselves a fresh supply of tiny cakes,” she teased, “and ride out the storm in my cabin.”_

_“I suppose that is... acceptable.”_

_“Of course it is.” As they walked away, however, Isabela’s eyes narrowed. “Link your arm with mine,” she directed, “like before, and act as though everything I say is charming and hilarious.”_

_“I don’t under-”_

_“We’re being watched. Just do it.”_

_Silenced, Josephine complied. “This way,” Isabela muttered, nodding toward a side street; it meandered behind a tavern, out of sight of the main thoroughfare. “Watch where you step, this isn’t the best part of town.”_

_“Does this town actually have a best part?”_

_“Excellent question, pet. I’ll let you know.” They kept walking behind the tavern, and Isabela kept her ears pricked for the tattle-tale sound of boots scraping on stone which would alert her to the presence of a tracker. There._

_She spun around, quickly, shielding Josephine from view as much as she could while allowing her knives to leap into her hands. Isabela’s knives looked not so much like daggers as they did like butcher’s cleavers, and they were engraved with skeletal hands. She kept the edges exceptionally sharpened, so much so that they could skim an almost transparent layer of skin from a tomato. She pointed one now at the figure who faced them. “Who are you, and what do you want?”_

_He looked Fereldan - possibly of partial Chasind or maybe Avvar descent. He lacked the tattoos, but the build suggested the bloodline, and his hawkish eyes were hooded and disdainful. “I saw you in the merchant stalls,” he drawled, glancing briefly at the sheen of light on her blade. “They say some raiders took a merchant’s daughter and he’s offering a hefty prize for her safe return.”_

_“And what makes you think either of us are a merchant’s daughter? Do I look like a merchant’s daughter?” Isabela deadpanned._

_The brute laughed, a short rasping sound that was almost like a bark. “Nah. You look like a raider. But your pretty friend there... she looks like she might be worth a hefty ransom.”_

_“I’m not selling.”_

_“That’s all right. I’m not buying.” Disturbingly sharp teeth gleamed in his unpleasant smile. “You walk away and I might not tell the merchant who took his little girl.”_

_“I don’t think she wants to go with you.” Isabela glanced over her shoulder. “Do you, pet?”_

_“No... no, I would definitely say not.”_

_“There, you see? Now run along before someone gets hurt. These knives were a gift from a friend, and I would hate to muck them up with your blood.” Isabela glared at him._

 

* * *

 

“Varric, have you seen Josephine?”

“Often,” he replied, glancing up from the pages, “though not in the last hour or so.”

“You know what I mean.” Leliana was clearly trying not to smile.

“Look, the only thing I can tell you is that Rivaini showed up - at your request, or so she claims - and when she learned the nature of this ‘friend-fiction’ I’m writing for her, she decided to go and visit Ruffles.” He paused and glanced out through the open door of the keep. “Judging by the position of the sun, that was at least an hour ago.”

“Hmm. I just went to convene in the war room - we’ve had some messages from the Inquisitor which need our attention regarding the Basin,” she explained. “Cullen was there, but Josie wasn’t.”

“Huh. Well, since Rivaini hasn't returned,” he mused, “I assume she found Ruffles when she went into the office. And you have to go through the office to get _to_ the war room, so if they were in there you’d have seen them.” He thought about it. “Only two ways out of Josephine’s office, and if they’d come out here I’d have noticed. They must have gone downstairs to the wine cellar. I think there’s a door that leads into the kitchen from there. I haven’t been down in a while, but I’m pretty sure I remember that.”

“Interesting. I wonder why they would sneak off.” Leliana’s expression was nothing short of amused.

“I can think of at least three possible reasons, Nightingale, and if we’re being honest, you and I are two of them.” He chuckled.

“Fair enough. They’re probably here in Skyhold somewhere, though, yes?”

“ _You’re_ the spymaster. If they left the grounds, you’d probably know it before anybody.”

“Well, there is that. All right. If you see her, do let her know that I’m looking for her. But until it actually gets dark, I won’t worry too much.” She was still smirking as she walked away.

Varric shook his head, thoroughly entertained by the turn of events, and began reading back over what he’d written, muttering to himself. “Let’s see here... the brute charged Rivaini... her blades danced in the cool shadows... she took him down without much trouble because she’s just that badass... she grabbed Josephine’s hand and they ran for it... they weathered the storm, I’ll leave that somewhat ambiguous but it involved wine and cake... more days passed... and I think I know how to end it.” He shook his head again. “I’ll just finish this and leave it on her desk for Ruffles to find. Something tells me Rivaini won't have any trouble persuading her to share.” Picking up his quill, he dipped it in the ink once more.

 

* * *

 

_“So you wrote to your parents.”_

_The two women of the Siren’s Call were relaxing in the captain’s cabin. Isabela sat at her desk, chair tilted back, feet propped up with the ankles crossed. Josephine was at the sideboard, pouring a glass of brandy._

_“I did,” she replied, “and I’ve had word back from them.”_

_It had now been more than a month since Isabela had, quite by accident, kidnapped the Antivan noblewoman. “And I suppose they’ll be arranging for you to come home.”_

_“Well, no.” Josephine smirked a bit. “To be quite honest, Admiral, I’ve grown rather fond of seafaring. I’ve informed them of my intent to turn sailor.”_

_“Really.” Isabela laughed, and then laughed again when she realized the other woman was serious. “And they’re just okay with this?”_

_“Surprisingly, they were rather understanding. I didn’t expect that,” Josephine admitted. “They’ve made arrangements for my sister Yvette to take my place as the Lord de Montfort’s bride. She's actually quite excited about it.”_

_“Huh. That was quick.”_

_“I must admit it seems that way to me too. But the Montilyets have always been practical and resourceful, and to be sure, there was always a danger of my failing to reach Orlais for one reason or another. That the reason turned out to be a ravishing raider queen was not what I imagined, but you will observe that I am not complaining.”_

_“So you’re really staying, then?” Isabela tilted her head curiously, her gold earrings flashing as she did so._

_“Unless you would prefer I return to Antiva City, that is my intent.”_

_“All right, but you know what that means, don’t you?”_

_It was Josephine’s turn to look curious. “What does it mean?”_

_Smirking, Isabela turned in her chair, letting her boots hit the floor. She opened a drawer of her desk and extracted something, then got up and moved to Josephine’s side. “Turn around,” she directed. A moment later, she fastened something around the Antivan’s graceful throat. “There you are, pet.”_

_Josephine’s nimble fingers trailed over the beads. “What is it?”_

_“Your collar, of course. I said I’d get you one. Black pearls and gold. So long as you’re staying with me, you keep that on. You ever decide to leave, give it back.” She stole Josephine’s brandy glass and drained its contents before kissing her. “Now, if you’re quite ready, there are schemes to be had in the Veneficalion Sea.”_

_“By your leave, Admiral.”_


End file.
